


strike at the heart

by Friendly_Gayberhood_SpiderMan (orphan_account)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Era, Fencing, First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:00:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26128414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Friendly_Gayberhood_SpiderMan
Summary: Marius' fencing practice with Courfeyrac goes different than expected.
Relationships: Courfeyrac/Marius Pontmercy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 21





	strike at the heart

“Parry, parry, thrust.” Courfeyrac knocks the foil out of Marius’ hand with a loud _clang_. “I said to thrust, not block.”

Marius frowns, picking up his foil only to set it down on a nearby table.

“Don’t tell me you have given up already,” Courfeyrac says, shaking his head. “We’ve only just started.”

“Are you certain we are allowed to be in here?” Marius asks. He casts his eyes about the area, pursing his lips a little.

The back room of the Café Musain, which Marius has not visited in quite a while, looks quite different after hours. Flickering candles cast long shadows which envelop the tables and chairs, haphazardly pushed to the sides of the room, and every so often Marius hears a strange scratching sound which he hopes is only a rat; but, by far, the strangest thing is the silence. The sounds of stories, debates, laughter that should be there are simply gone, replaced by a smothering quiet. It gives the entire room an air of emptiness which, even with the awareness of Courfeyrac’s and Marius’ own presence, cannot be vanquished.

“Very,” Courfeyrac says, jolting Marius out of his thoughts. Marius gives him a look, and he elaborates. “The owner has given us permission, so long as we do not break anything.”

Marius hums, picking up the foil again. It takes a few seconds for his arm to readjust to the weight. He raises it, moving to what he feels is a reasonable starting position, and waits for Courfeyrac to make the first move.

Courfeyrac sighs and puts his own foil down, striding over to Marius. "You're holding it all wrong." And then he’s wrapping his hand around Marius’ and Marius can’t breathe, can’t think of anything that is not Courfeyrac's fingers on his. 

It only takes a few seconds for Courfeyrac to adjust Marius’ grip, but he doesn’t let go. Instead he moves closer, so close that Marius can pick out the different shades of brown in his eyes, and lays his other hand on Marius’ hip.

“Relax,” he whispers, and Marius, unable to deny Courfeyrac anything right now, does. A breath, two, and then Courfeyrac is pulling away. Marius barely conceals a shiver.

“There you are.” Courfeyrac walks back to where he had set down his foil, picks it up. There is something strained to his smile that Marius finds himself unable to parse. “Much better.”

Marius opens his mouth, closes it, swallows. “I still do not understand why you have taken it upon yourself to teach me fencing,” he says; the only thing he can think of that is not, _come back_ , or something even more telling.

“You never know when you might be challenged to a duel.” Courfeyrac moves to a starting position that looks vastly more natural than Marius’ own. “Or when you might challenge someone else.”

“And how many duels have you fought?” Marius asks, genuinely curious.

Courfeyrac winks. “Enough,” he says, and lunges.

And they’re off, foils clanging against each other as Courfeyrac yells out suggestions that Marius tries his best to follow. Parry. Parry. Feint. Parry. Riposte. Parry. Lunge. Parry. This continues for several minutes as the two of them fight their way across the floor, movements synchronized, like partners in a slightly violent dance.

“Lunge,” Courfeyrac says, and Marius, struck with a strange hesitation, waits just a second too long to do so. His foil falls to the ground at Courfeyrac’s next move and he finds himself backed up against the wall, the tip of Courfeyrac’s foil prodding at his chest.

There is a small smirk on Courfeyrac’s face as he declares his victory, throws in a pun or two. Marius barely hears the words, mouth suddenly feeling very, very dry.

Courfeyrac lowers his foil, making one last triumphant remark. And Marius, not sparing a second to think, to consider consequences, strides forward, lays his hands on Courfeyrac’s face, and kisses him.

In some dim corner of his mind, Marius registers the sound of Courfeyrac’s foil clattering against the floor. But then Courfeyrac is bringing one hand up to the nape of Marius’ neck, knotting his fingers in the curls there as he deepens the kiss, and Marius is rendered incapable of thinking about anything else.

All at once, Marius comes back to himself. He pulls away, so fast it almost hurts, and stumbles backwards, wincing at the confused expression on Courfeyrac’s face. “I’m sorry,” he manages to get out, after half a minute has passed. “I should not have- I- I- I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“There is no need to apologize.” Courfeyrac frowns. “I know that activities like fencing often bring out heightened emotions in people.” He pauses, looks away. “This was just.” He swallows. “The heat of the moment. Nothing more.”

It takes a second for Marius to recognize what Courfeyrac is doing: giving him a way out, an opportunity to deny everything. All he has to do is agree, laugh, shrug it off, and the matter will be done with.

“No,” he says, before he has consciously decided to. “It _was_ more.” He breathes in, breathes out. “Is more.” And then, because he has come this far and might as well go all the way, “I love you.”

Courfeyrac smiles and Marius feels something take flight in his chest. “I love you too.”

Marius takes a few tentative steps forward, bringing himself back into Courfeyrac’s space. “Truly?”

Courfeyrac answers with a kiss. Marius lets himself melt into it, savoring every second. When they finally part, he’s not sure who has the wider smile.

“Well,” Courfeyrac says after a second, leaning down to pick up his foil, “I hope you are not planning to finish every duel like that. While _I_ may not be opposed to it, I suspect other opponents will not be so amenable.”

Marius flushes, looks down. “No,” he says, “Not every duel.”

“But perhaps,” Courfeyrac says, and there is something almost conspiratorial to his tone. “Just one more.” Marius looks up just as Courfeyrac presses his forgotten foil into his hand, fingers lingering long past what is necessary; not that Marius would even think to complain.

Marius nods, and Courfeyrac takes a few steps back. “En garde!” he says, moving to his preparatory position.

And if Marius were to presently indulge in one of his bouts of introspection, he might realize how strange it is that, even as he is getting ready to start the match, he can’t help but to anticipate its end.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a kudos and/or comment if you liked this :D
> 
> Find me on tumblr @saucy-boy


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